Ever since getting dropped ass-first into Night City, I’d experienced more firsts than I could count. The first time I woke up outside, naked and disoriented. The first time I’d been mugged. The first time I killed a man. The first time I fought in a gang war.
Firsts stopped feeling special after a while; they became routine. But even with all that, I wasn’t prepared for my first time leading a small army through a forgotten underground tunnel network alongside Idris-fucking-Elba, aiming to take down the servers of a gang we planned to supplant in one of Night City’s most notorious districts. The tunnel stretched out ahead of us, a maw of darkness that was swallowed up by darkness in every direction. It was the dead of night, and my squad was picking its way carefully towards Pacifica.
Reed walked beside me, silent as usual, his eyes scanning the path without offering any reassuring words. A few paces ahead, Deng’s silhouette moved with a steady confidence, like he was used to leading a bunch of soldiers into battle. Surrounding us were dozens of members of The Pack, men and women who’d trained under Deng since we started forming the gang, back when we were nothing more than a scrappy group trying to make a name for ourselves. Now…we weren’t so small anymore. Bringing up the rear was Sandra and her netrunner crew – a bunch of tech wizards who looked wildly out of place in this dank, crumbling maze but who were essential for what came next. Their mission was to seize control of the Voodoo Boys’ Rezo Agwe servers while we dealt with the rest of their forces.
The maglev tunnels were relics from a failed city project, remnants of a bygone era when people were trying to rebuild Night City from the ground up. Concrete walls were streaked with rust and lined with broken lights, each a marker of abandoned dreams and forgotten promises from mayors and corporations long gone. Our footsteps echoed in the dark, each step swallowed by the cold and damp of the tunnels.
I glanced at the digital clock in the corner of my vision and then tapped out a quick message, checking in with our teams. The signal flickered and strained through the dense, crumbling corridors, but I knew it would push through eventually.
Noah: everyone in position? Everyone ready?
The seconds dragged on as I waited for the replies. Eventually, one by one, messages started to ping in.
Diego: main force ready to advance toward Batty. Once you send the go, ETA five minutes.
Diego was spearheading the bulk of our force, tasked with drawing the Voodoo Boys’ attention. His team was set to converge on the old Batty Hotel, the heart of the VDB presence in Pacifica. Our job – mine, Reed’s, and Deng’s – was to secure the old Pacifica Serenity Bible Church and give Sandra the opening she needed to wrest control of the Rezo Agwe servers. Once she had them locked down, The Pack would surge in, attacking VDB positions and sowing chaos.
Zion: sniper teams on standby.
Zion had spent hours pouring over maps of Pacifica, marking sightlines and plotting the ideal perches for his sharpshooters. Now, his two teams were idling just outside the district, ready to rush in and provide overwatch and cover fire from high positions. Their scopes would sweep the district, hunting for any threats that could disrupt our main offensive.
Cyndi: south of Pacifica. Ready to go when you are.
Cyndi’s force was lean and agile, designed more for quick raids than hard pointing a target. Her crew would weave through the alleys and battered streets of Pacifica, hitting smaller VDB outposts that were scattered throughout the district. Her targets were the guard posts, the small-time muscle who were watching over the VDB-operated fronts – gun shops, streetwear stores, and a ripperdoc’s clinic. I’d used a network of homeless informants in the district to sniff out locations where the VDB had small presences, and now Cyndi’s team was poised to sweep in and dismantle them.
Our small army finally reached the area leading into the server room of the underground Voodoo Boy base. There was a small junction that eventually opened up to a dimly lit space with cracked concrete walls. A sickly glow of old neon strips painted everything in a hazy, uneven light. Coils of tangled wires snaked across the floor and walls, their insulation worn and patchy, while an incessant hum from computer servers filled the air.
The team paused for a moment, a synchronized breath before the storm. I stole a glance into the server room ahead – cobbled together nodes, harsh and angular, stood like grotesque altars to netrunner gods. The soft whir of cooling fans and blinking red and green lights were the only signs of life.
Reed motioned with a swift gesture, the universal signal to move out. We surged forward, boots striking the floor in a unified thrum. The first shots burst out, sharp and deafening in the enclosed space. Reed’s Kyubi assault rifle barked, the recoil kicking against his shoulder as the muzzle flash lit up the room in searing pulses of white and red. Three netrunners were slumped in their chairs, wired into the server, not registering the outside world as the attack began. They all jolted as bullets from our rifles tore through them. Pink mist rose in lazy clouds, catching the light like macabre confetti.
Chaos swallowed the room as Deng’s voice rang out, shouting commands and barking orders. His team splintered off, fanning out through the chamber. A sentry spun out from behind a support column, his eyes wide and his rifle half-raised. Deng’s bullet slammed into him, the sentry folded and his weapon clattered away.
I pressed myself against a rust-streaked support beam. There was movement to my left – a shadow darting in the half-light, face hidden in shadows. My fingers tightened on the Kenshin in my hands, breathing steadily as I stepped out and squeezed the trigger. The crack of the shot felt almost muted compared to the sound of the assault rifles around me, but the effect was immediate. The figure stumbled and fell to the ground, limbs splayed out and lifeless. My first kill of the night.
The fight ended almost as quickly as it began. The last echoed of gunfire faded, leaving only the soft hum of electronics and the rapid, shallow breathing of the team. I swept the room with my eyes, taking in the sight of the bodies of the Voodoo Boys scattered around like toppled mannequins.
“Clear!” Deng called out.
Behind me, Sandra and her team rushed forward, their cyberdecks and laptops clattering as they scrambled to the Rezo Agwe servers. Sandra jacked her personal link into a terminal and I watched as the screen lit up, numbers and code cascading in a rapid flash. Her team scattered like ants, rushing to open terminals, plugging in their personal links wherever they could. They connected cables, clamped devices onto server nodes, and rushed to take control over Rezo Agwe in the shorted time possible.
I shifted my gaze to Reed and Deng. They were already picking their way through the room, checking for any sign of movement that might spell trouble. Deng signaled for three of his people to cover the main entrance leading into the server room. They stationed themselves with clear sightlines while the rest of Deng’s crew fanned out and formed a perimeter that turned the room into a fortress.
“Gimmie five minutes and this thing is ours,” Sandra shouted over her shoulder, not breaking her focus.
I gave her a quick nod and tapped out messages to the rest of my teams, sending the go signal to the mercs stationed in the GIM. Our timing had to be perfect. We wanted just enough Voodoo Boys’ netrunners to be plugged into Rezo Agwe for a crippling blow when Sandra took over the system, but not so many that the operation became a slog through virtual quicksand. Too many netrunners defending the servers could make this plan go sideways, fast.
I knew that our mercs at the GIM would be springing into action right now. I could picture it: engines roaring to life, mercs leaping into battered vans and armored trucks, tires squealing as vehicles tore through the dark as they sped to Scav outposts we’d pinpointed for them. They’d be bringing even more chaos into Pacifica. Hopefully enough to keep the Voodoo Boys scrambling.
The Pack, idling just outside the district, sat waiting for my go-ahead. I hadn’t wanted to risk bringing them in too early; it would’ve been a dead giveaway that something was brewing. But that meant they were five crucial minutes away once I sent my message – a gap that felt like a lifetime when the bullets started flying. In the middle of a firefight, five minutes might as well be five years.
I caught Reed looking over at me, the unspoken question clear in his eyes: could we hold this place for five minutes? I forced a reassuring nod. It had to be enough. We had the element of surprise and solid cover. We could bunker down. But if Pacifica turned all its attention our way, if the VDB flooded us with their numbers, it wouldn’t matter how good our position was.
A message blinked in my interface from one of the mercs acting as my eyes and ears on the ground. His name was Dexter and I’d marked him as the point man for updates – his job was to fight the Scavs and keep me in the loop on what was going on. Dexter wasn’t exactly the most intimidating member of Rogue’s roster; he looked more like a corporate pencil-pusher than a hardened solo. But Rogue didn’t have duds on her roster. If he’d made it to the Afterlife, he was good enough for this job.
Dexter: storming the Scav hotel now. Clearing out stragglers and carving our way through.
I could almost see it play out in my mind: Dexter and the rest of the mercs pushing through the narrow, dim-lit hallways, their rifles spitting fire. The flicker of muzzle flashes bouncing off cracked plaster. The sharp tang of blood misting and mingling together with the smell of burned-out cyberware in a stench that clung to your clothes and invaded your nostrils.
Noah: good. When you’re done, don’t forget – I need a team posted at the hotel. Secure it. We’re selling off whatever the Scavs left behind.
I hesitated for a second, knowing that choice wouldn’t sit well with everyone. By profiting off the Scavs, it felt like we were inching toward becoming what we fought against. Stripping cyberware from corpses, repurposing implants torn from bodies of the unlucky or unwise – it was grim work, the kind that put a bad taste in your mouth. But. The eddies would keep The Pack fed, our operations running, and help us strengthen our claim in Pacifica. An eddie was an eddie.
Sandra’s shout brought me back to the present. “We’re through!” She turned from her terminal, her eyes wide and wild and a fierce grin split her face. I pushed my way over to see the terminal she’d been working on.
“Say that again?” I needed to hear it one more time, just to let it sink in.
Sandra didn’t skip a beat, her fingers dancing across the keys as she spoke. “Rezo Agwe is ours. We fried the poor bastards already logged in. My guess? They were keeping tabs on what your mercs were doing with the Scavs.” She threw a quick glance over her shoulder at me, a predatory gleam in her eyes. “They didn’t even have time to blink. Flash froze ‘em in their seats. They’re probably drooling on themselves right now while their minds fry.”
A shift passed through the room. Deng’s lips quirked into the shadow of a smirk, and Reed let out a low whistle, impressed.
“No alarms?” I pushed, needing to make sure.
“Not a peep,” Sandra confirmed. “We’ve got a window to work. My team’s rigging up traps and loading the dummy server to make Rezo Agwe look untouched. Any netrunner who logs in after this is gonna be in for a nasty surprise – trapped and fried before they know what hit ‘em.”
A wave of triumph buzzed through me, but I schooled my expression into one of seriousness. “Good,” I said, looking around the room. “Deng, get a team posted here. We’re gonna move out in a moment.”
Behind me, Sandra’s laughter rang out, sharp and victorious as her team worked. We had a brief moment to catch our breath, but there was no time to get comfortable. Even with our control over Rezo Agwe, the VDB were still a threat.
A flash in my vision drew my attention to a new message. Anna’s name flashed and I clicked her message open, hoping for good news instead of a desperate call for help.
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Anna: moving on the VDB sites in Dogtown. If the surprise holds, we’ll be in and out before Barghest even knows we’re here.
Anna’s squad had one of the more dangerous assignments. Her people were cut off from any easy reinforcements, hiding out in Dogtown, and she was supposed to take out the splinter cell of VDB who’d broken off from Maman Brigitte. If we truly wanted to erase the VDB’s hold over Pacifica, we couldn’t afford to leave any rogue factions that might nurse a grudge against us and regroup in the shadows, waiting for their moment to strike back.
Updates from Zion and Deng buzzed in my internal Agent, each one increasing my heart beat.
Zion: first sniper team in position. Parking structure near Batty. We have eyes on the hotel and main drag. Second team en route to the GIM to support whoever needs it.
Deng: almost in position. Hitting Batty in three.
Reed was stacked up on the door leading out to the narrow corridor that went from the server room into the catacombs beneath the church. Deng and his team, minus a few guards he left to secure the servers, gathered behind him, ready to push forward.
No one spoke. Words were unnecessary. We moved like ghosts, slipping through the catacombs. Every corner was checked to make sure VDB sentries weren’t laying in wait. We all held our breath as we slowly inched our way closer to the stairway leading from the catacombs up to the church.
As we got closer to the stairway, I felt the silence of the catacombs press harder into my ears. Reed turned, a silent question in his eyes that I answered with a nod. We climbed, boots heavy on the steps. When we emerged into the dim light of the church, it was empty. The towering door before us loomed large, the last barrier between us and the upcoming chaos outside.
Deng signaled to two of his people, and they pushed the door open. We heard the sound of gunfire in the distance. Down south, the mercs were storming the Scav hotel, drawing everyone’s attention to fighting there. Diego hadn’t started his attack on the Batty yet, so the VDB in this part of Pacifica didn’t know what was happening. A small group clustered near the church. About five of them, their guns hanging in their hands as they peered south, trying to spot signs of the fighting going on down there.
Deng moved first, a silent flicker of motion, and the quiet around the church exploded into violence. Reed’s Kyubi barked twice and a body dropped to the ground. I caught a glimpse of a face frozen in shock, eyes wide as life fled, and I squeezed the trigger on my Kenshin. In moments, the five VDB who’d been guarding the church were dead.
For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Then, carried on the wind rolling in from the ocean, came the muffled roar of gunfire. The Batty Hotel was lit up with bright, jagged flashes of muzzle fire as Diego’s team launched their assault.
A message came in from Cyndi.
Cyndi: we’re moving. Hitting the first mark now.
I could picture her squad moving in tight formation, weaving through the labyrinth of crumbling streets and shuttered storefronts in Pacifica. We had relied on the locals – the district’s homeless – for intel, piecing together maps of VDB outposts hidden among the businesses they controlled. Cyndi’s targets were scattered throughout the district: a clothing shop where VDB enforcers stood vigilant, a ripperdoc’s clinic guarded by sentires, a gun store acting as a supply depot for their soldiers. Cyndi’s job was to be surgical and precise in the chaos she rained down on Pacifica. Her team was to flow from one mark to the next, strike and destabilize, clear out the smaller cells while the rest of us tackled the big players.
The roar coming from the Batty Hotel was relentless. The staccato of automatic fire beating a tattoo in the night.
Deng positioned his crew around the church, setting up defensive points to prepare for any VDB counterattack. While he did that, I stared out at the resto f the district and watched as people scattered from the violence. This wasn’t just some back-alley brawl or a skirmish that the Pacifica residents had long become desensitized to. This was a war crashing down on the district.
To the average Night City denizen, a combat zone was usually just a bunch of gangoons – maybe three, maybe five – spraying bullets wildly at each other or at whatever they decided needed holes that day. A combat zone was quick flashes of gunfire slicing through the dark, shouted threats that punctured the usual roar of a city, storefronts blasted into jagged ruins. The police never came; they’d long ceded control of the district to the gangs and psychos and independent operators and anyone else with the grit to claim it. Why waste manpower and resources where the ground was too toxic to claim?
But what was happening tonight was…different. This was a full-scale takeover. The Pack surged into the district like a tidal wave breaching a dam, sweeping into every alley and shadowed corner, seizing ground with deliberate intent. The crackle of gunfire and shouted orders mixed with the angry flicker of storefronts set ablaze to blanket the district in chaos.
This wasn’t a hit-and-run. This was an invasion. It was a claim. It was a promise, written in blood and smoke that we were here to grab Pacifica. And slowly, the Voodoo Boys began to understand that. The shouts I caught from them weren’t the arrogant taunt of gangsters when someone steps on their turf; they were raw, panicked, disbelief-laden cries made in Creole that I couldn’t understand. Their grip on the district was slipping, every block turning hostile as we carved our name across their stronghold.
Zion: drones are up. Batty team, stay sharp.
Netwatch hadn’t just lent us netrunner support; they’d brought tech, daemons, and drones ot the table. We weren’t outfitted with the top-tier arsenal of drones like the Militech Chimera that had torn through Barghest during the DLC. Instead, Netwatch had secured sleek Militech Wyvern drones – compact, lethal, and efficient. They folded neatly into cases but sprang to life when deployed, offering close air support to The Pack.
Zion: drones are targeting the top floor.
The Batty Hotel was a fortress, bristling with VDB soldiers who’d fortified the upper levels and turned it into their headquarters. But they weren’t ready for the massed attack by Diego and his troops, backed by a swarm of drones. I pictured the top floors erupting under the barrage, windows shattering and spraying shards that caught the neon and moonlight, glinting like rain as they crashed onto the cracked asphalt below. The sharp shouts from within turned into panicked screams as the VDB scrambled, thrown off balance by the unexpected strike.
Diego: moving in. Drones gave us an opening.
Diego’s team was tasked with clearing out the Batty Hotel and securing the VDB headquarters on the upper floors. The thunder of gunfire rolled through the air, and every instinct in me screamed to rush over and help him.
Suddenly, a sharp burst of gunfire sounded and bullets whizzed past, biting into the walls and splintering the church door beside me. I barely had time to register the attack before Deng’s shout rose above the chaos. “They’re coming!”
The church door I’d been standing beside buckled under the barrage. Heart pounding, I dove back into the shadows of the church for cover. One of Deng’s soldiers scrambled in behind me – a kid, barely out of his teens. His eyes were wide with adrenaline and fear, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.
“Stay low,” I muttered, my words barely audible over the hammering of gunfire. The columns in the church offered little cover, but it was all we had. I scanned outside the church and noticed Deng and a group of his men crouched behind a small barricade, their rifles cracking out shots in a desperate attempt to hold back the VDB pushing forward. Reed wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
I steadied my hand and raised my Kenshin, squeezing off three shots at the figures darting toward us in the dim light. The muzzle flare lit up the darkness for a heartbeat, bright and white. One of the VDB staggered, a shocked look frozen on his face as he fell to the ground. But the others didn’t falter – they kept charging. They knew we’d taken their servers. They knew we controlled the church, and they were coming to get it back.
Deng’s voice barked, shouting commands at his people. He was at the forefront of our forces, a fierce determination etched onto his face, teeth bared in a defiant half-smile.
“Cover!” I shouted to the kid beside me. His knuckles were white around the grip of his Umbra rifle, as if holding it was the only thing keeping him alive. We ducked together as another burst of gunfire slammed into the stone archway of the church, shattering chunks into a cloud of grit and dust.
A new sound sliced through the chaos – a rapid burst from a Kyubi, a staccato of shots cutting in from an unexpected angle. The VDB attackers hesitated, thrown off balance.
Reed had circled around, ghosted through the shadows like a phantom, and now was unleashing precise, surgical fire into the flank of the attackers. I stole a glance through the broken church door and saw the first VDB soldier jerk back and collapse. Another fell, then a third, the rhythm of their attack breaking apart as Reed’s shots found their marks.
My pulse hammered in my ears. I steadied my breath, aimed my Kenshin, and squeezed the trigger again. The pistol bucked in my hand, and another VDB went down, a crimson stain spreading across his chest. The roar of the fight outside dimmed as the last of the assaulting group fell, their push broken.
Diego: we need reinforcements at the hotel.
I couldn’t call in the mercs. They were likely wrapping up their assault on the Scav hotel down south and making their way to the ferris wheel by the beach, where another Scav stronghold waited. Cyndi and her team were deep into their operation, taking out VDB outposts one by one. Her updates had been steady: the ripperdoc’s clinic and the gun store were neutralized, tightening our grip on southern Pacifica. She was closing in on a small garage that housed a rogue VDB netrunner.
I glanced over at Deng, and he nodded before I could even speak, understanding already written in his eyes. “Go. We’ll hold here.”
With a quick wave, I gathered Reed and a handful of fighters. We rushed towards the Batty, our boots thudding against cracked asphalt and scattered debris. The sound of battle grew louder, a chaotic cacophony of screams and shouts and gunfire.
As we rounded the last corner heading to the hotel, the scene unfolded in front of me. The hotel towered over us, its façade scarred and pocked with bullet holes and shattered windows bleeding smoke. The street below it was chaos – locals, squatters, and unlucky bystanders scrambling for cover, their faces twisting in panic. Shards of glass and spent casings crunched beneath our feet. A few vending machines had been knocked over and split open and repurposed as makeshift barricades by both defenders and attackers.
Above us, the Militech Wyvern drones buzzed, their shrill whine cutting through the night. They hovered like predatory birds outside the top floors, spitting streams of gunfire into the Voodoo Boys’ stronghold. The VDB returned fire, focusing all their attacks on the drones instead of The Pack members on the attack.
Through the smoke billowing out of the hotel, I spotted Diego behind an overturned car. Sweat and grime smeared his face. His team was advancing, but it was a hard push, every step paid for in blood. Bodies – both from the VDB and The Pack – lay scattered across the cracked pavement. The smell of blood and cordite filled the air, and I had to swallow a churn in my stomach.
Reed didn’t wait. He rushed forward, Kyubi raised as he opened fire on the nearest cluster of VDB. I dropped down next to Diego, catching his eye for a split second.
“About time,” he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.
Reed’s sudden attack on the VDB earned us some momentum. We pushed into the hotel. The dust of shattered concrete caught in the sickly fluorescent light, casting the lobby into a strange, shifting haze of light and shadow that cut visibility in half.
I stayed close to Diego, gripping my Kenshin tightly. It was the gun that had been with me since my early days in the city. I could have picked up one of the rifles we’d armed our people with – Kyubi or Copperhead, something heavier and deadlier – but the thought of their bulk made my stomach twist. No, I knew my Kenshin. I trusted my Kenshin.
The Pack moved as one, storming through the hotel. Reed led the charge, leading with a ferocity that…kinda freaked me out. He was violence incarnate, each shot from his Kyubi tearing through enemies. The relentless rattle of gunfire filled the air, and each muzzle flash cast his face in sharp, flickering relief. I saw it in those moments – why the game always said that Solomon Reed was a legend on par with Morgan Blackhand. His eyes were cold and focused. He moved like a dancer who had choreographed this entire fight beforehand.
Diego shouted a command, and The Pack pressed forward, following Reed’s lead. I took aim and squeezed off a few rounds at a VDB soldier trying to lift his rifle. A jolt of my pistol. A pink cloud released into the air. A man falling to the ground.
And then I saw him.
Placide.
The fucking king asshole of the VDB. Even in the half-dark chaos of the battle, he was impossible to miss – a hulking figure of muscle and intimidation barreling straight toward us. He roared, the sound deep and guttural. For a heartbeat, I felt fear. This was the man who betrayed V – or would, eventually. Maybe. This was the VDB enforcer that Maman Brigitte kept on a tight leash, the brutal hammer of Voodoo Boys’ power, now unleashed and coming right at us.
I hesitated. Reed didn’t. He moved with an almost impossible speed, a blur that suggested a Sandevistan imlant – or maybe he was just that good. He leapt straight into Placide’s path, where the two collided, briefly. Reed wasn’t a small man, but he was dwarfed by the sheer mass of Placide, a human tank. But where I expected Placide to smash Reed to pieces, I only saw a fluid movement. Reed slipped past a crushing blow from Placide, and before I could fully process it, the muzzle of Reed’s pistol – somehow unholstered mid-fight – pressed under Placide’s chin. A shot rang out, sharp and final. Placide fell with a look of stunned disbelief.
Reed pivoted before Placide even hit the floor, firing into a cluster of VDB charging toward us. He led the charge of The Pack forward through the maze of corridors on the upper floors of the hotel. We followed, feet slapping against cracked tiles, breath coming in jagged gasps. Any VDB who tried to step out and challenge us disappeared in a spray of pink mist as Reed’s precision shots found their mark.
I ducked into an alcove as bullets splintered the wall beside me, bits of plaster raining down on my head. I risked a glance at the streams of messages scrolling through my interla Agent. Zion’s sniper teams were holding steady, picking off random VDB in the hotel and cutting down any reinforcements trying to push their way to the Batty. Their overwatch from the nearby parking deck was a lifeline for the assault force, turning the street outside into a kill zone.
Cyndi’s updates flashed in my vision. The shops and stores she’d targeted were cleared, and her team was now setting up a perimeter around the hotel, catching any stragglers Zion’s crew missed. Her coordination was locking down the district, a noose tightening around the VDB.
Sandra’s messages were clipped and more technical. Rezo Agwe was secured, with no signs of netrunners attempting to breach the system anymore. The network was sealed tight, and Sandra was confident she’d ICEd all the netrunners the VDB had left. I read her words twice, a brief smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. She and her crew had turned the VDB’s feared data fortress into a tomb for any netrunner foolish enough to try logging in.
“Move!” Diego snapped, bringing me back to the present. I sprang from cover and fired at an approaching VDB. He staggered and dropped. The slide on my Kenshin locked back, empty. I ducked behind a splintered table, hands moving on autopilot as I reloaded, the metallic clink of the fresh magazine drowned out by the roar of the ongoing battle.
The mercs were making headway too. A quick status update flashed in the corner of my vision, letting me know that the area around the ferris wheel was cleared, and they were moving to mop up scattered Scav pockets near the unfinished hotels lining Dogtown’s border. The hard fighting was over for them; now it was time to clean up the stragglers.
Reed was already charging up the next stairwell, barely pausing as he laid down fire. I fell in behind him, The Pack moving as a single, unforgiving unit. We left a wake of shell casings, shattered walls, and lifeless bodies – remnants of those too slow to react to the moving battle.
On the upper floors, we found the VDB stronghold. There was a sliding glass door in front of us, with three guards stationed in front of it, copperhead rifles aimed down the corridor, ready to shred anyone who rushed in. The first burst of fire came fast, bullets tearing the space between us.
Reed threw himself behind a corridor wall, probably reacting on instinct. One of The Pack behind wasn’t as lucky – there was a sharp, wet thud sound, and he crumpled to the ground. Everything sharpened for me: the body slumping to the floor, the rapid muzzle flashes, and Diego’s arm yanking me and shoving us both behind a shattered vending machine, its neon lights sputtering wildly.
Diego’s rifle roared, a deep and angry bark, and I watched one of the VDB guards stagger back, a puff of pink splattering out. That single moment of distraction was enough for Reed to lean out from behind cover and hurl a grenade. It arced perfectly, hitting the ground in front of the VDB with a metallic clatter, and then bounced up.
The casing split open, this lasers unfurling in a deadly crisscross. Thin, lethal threads sprang out and diced apart everything in front of the sliding glass door. The guards had no chance – one second, they were whole; the next, sliced apart, their screams lost in the snap and sizzle. A table in front of the door erupted in flames, small embers sparking up and skittering across the floor.
Reed raced forward, Diego right behind, their movements perfectly in sync. I pushed myself off the floor and let my legs carry me forward automatically, my Kenshin raised. We passed through the glass door into the VDB headquarters proper. Gunfire cracked around us as Reed and Diego advanced, clearing the room.
The netrunners inside sat slumped in chairs, faces blank, lost somewhere on the other side of the black ICE Sandra let loose on Rezo Agwe. The few VDB who were still upright scrambled for weapons, eyes wide with panic as Reed’s shots dropped them. His gun thundered. Two VDB fell. Diego took another. I moved into the fray and everything narrowed to a small, focused cone in front of me. I squeezed off rounds, watching the last defenders crumple.
Then, suddenly, there was silence. The absence of noise was jarring. I sucked in a breath, ragged and shaking, my fingers still gripping the Kenshin so tightly my knuckles were white. I tried looking around the room for any last minute surprises, but couldn’t find any.
Diego’s eyes darted around, then settled. “Clear,” he barked, the word echoing in the stillness.
The quiet lingered for a moment before all the tension I’d been holding began to bleed out of my muscles. The strength in my legs faltered, and I sank into a nearby chairs, wheels squeaking under me. I tapped out a quick message to the rest of the crew, letting them know we had the Batty.
Noah: clear.